Dear Friends of GilChrist,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. The lushness of the land is ever apparent with all the trees in full foliage, grass growing strong, and the flowers in bloom. I navigate the paths in silence— there are no dried twigs to snap underfoot—though the birds are chattering away.

A family of barn swallows took up residence inside the pole barn on top of one of the lights, but then moved outside under the eve of the roof—we just couldn’t keep the doors open enough to suit their fancy. It is such a delight to come in every morning to see. Has their nest gotten bigger? Are there any little heads popping out of the nest?

Such curiosity fuels our imagination and our drive for discovery. The theme for this issue, curiosity, opens the door to that which lies just beyond our understanding or knowing.

We hope your curiosity will bring you to our Web site, where we will share the various sections of the GilChrist Letter beginning this fall. We want to conserve resources and reduce our environmental footprint, so this will be the last issue you see in hard copy. Please visit www.fetzer.org, and view the GilChrist section of the site to find our latest news and reflections on the season and various themes. We are grateful to those who have shared written reflections and photographs over these many years and hope to continue engaging with you online and on retreat.

We wish you a safe and fulfilling summer.

Namaste,

John

GilChristis the contemplativeretreat center of the

Fetzer Institute.

For retreat reservations, contact GilChrist 56265 Day Road

Three Rivers, MI 49093 269-244-1130

Weekday office hours 11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m.

Photos by Bobbe A. Luce© Fetzer Institute 2009

his is the last issue of the GilChrist Letter

we will be printing. Look for us online at

www.fetzer.org, where you can find our latest news and

upcoming events.

This fall we will launch an updated Web site

where GilChrist visitors can share their reflec-

tions, photos, poetry, and prose, similar to what

we have offered in these printed pages. We hope

you visit us soon!

he important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own

reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvel-ous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.

by Allison L. Downey Austin

oday, with a squeal and a shriek, and some awkward pushing and pulling of limbs, Michael crawled to Mama. I like to think that I was his inspiration for crawling

today, but curiosity about himself and his world has led him to this milestone.

From his earliest weeks, Michael would examine himself as if each part was a foreign object. When he developed his sense of touch, Michael would entertain himself exploring his limbs without seeming to recognize that they, or any other append-age for that matter, were attached. He is eminently curious about what he (literally) is made of, and delights in each discovery. What does his arm look like from this perspective, feel like, taste like? Where does it begin and end? And what about that pinky toe? I wonder if I applied that same spirit of curiosity to myself, might I discover parts I didn’t know existed? Could seeing myself from a different perspective reconstruct my identity? I think about the tenet to “Know thyself,” and our baby lives it.

By his fourth month I noticed that Michael’s curiosity had shifted focus from himself to the world around him. Through experimenting with his hands, he could reach for and grab objects—my glasses, for instance. Michael would stretch both arms overhead, rocking on his back to reach the squeaky toy just out of reach, until eventually, after hundreds of tries and falls on his face, he rolled over and caught it. Sometimes the falls really hurt, but the curiosity about the colorful speck across the room fueled his continued efforts to become mobile. Where does he find the courage to seek what he is not

physically capable of attaining? He tries to sit before he has the muscles and to crawl before he has the coordination. His desire to know what the light bulb feels like drives him to try to stand. Completely focused on his potential discovery, he seems to ignore (until he plunges to the floor) the fact that he has neither the balance nor the muscles yet to stand. But he will develop them so that he can get to that light bulb or some other highly dangerous object we thought was safely out of reach. His sense of curiosity is so strong that it compels him to create new abilities, just so he can better explore his world.

Michael’s curiosity is at the core of his very development, inspiring skills that are crucial for his survival. How often in our adult lives does “I don’t know how” serve as an end to, rather than a beginning of, a journey? If curiosity is imperative for our infants’ growth, what role can it play for adults? What new direc- tions might I take simply by exploring what intrigues me? My baby boy reminds me that curiosity is a powerful tool for growth that inspires both playfulness and courage.

Allison Downey is an associate professor of Creative Arts Education at Western Michigan University and is a professional singer-songwriter and theatre artist (www.allisondowney.com).

by Linda Sandow

Pale spring sunlight filters the rows.Kings and Queens of the prairie lie here No scepters in their calloused hands.The Knight’s presence only a stone horse trough Decreed by an animal lover long ago.

Mother and Father sleep here.An infant’s wind chime tinkles brokenly Above a stone lamb that will not gambol With its kind in a field away.

No pawns protect the line now.They are scattered: A Civil War marker, A narrow white headstone of a boy Who fought in “The War to End all Wars,” A bronze plaque honoring “The Greatest Generation.”

Dusty winds stir the rich soil beyond, Seeking new Tillers, Scuffing the corn stubble Where a long ago bride Spent the winter nights of 1837 Crouched beneath the upturned covered wagon, Her home a dugout in the rich black dirt.

The oak openings gone,Bazel Harrison rests, His seeds sown.

The richness of the old fields has spawned Greek Revivals and Victorians Surrounding a hopeful New England square.

Today ranch houses with Fisher-Price toys push the parameters Of stubborn oaks that cling to last year’s bronzed leaves Above tannin water hiding spring peepers.

I hear the priest’s footsteps again,I smell the church incense And remember his words: “Death is a part of Life.”Then the practical farmer speaks the warring words, “Build the barn first.”Yet I trust the Bishop.

I see the maple sap splattered on my driveway,I remember the narrow cedars of the cemetery hemming me And the icy fingers of the wind on my neck.I open the scarred wooden screen door.

I go to make the Corn Bread for Him,For the King must be protectedAnd I am the Queen.

Linda Sandow is a retired English teacher who began writing poetry after thirty years of teaching. She is also a self-taught artist who enjoys working in acrylic and mixed media as well as jewelry.

Many thanks for this newsletter, like a clear reflection in a pond. Each time I am at GilChrist I witness some other small miracle of being. This poem came there last winter by listening closely to a small moment of a friend who witnessed two deer on his way to meet us at Windhill …

by Mark Nepo

wo deer, fur thickening for winter, nibble at the pines.

The taller tugs at some needles and the branch drops snow on its face. It looks old and wise. Were it that easy.

Yet this is how it happens. Though the drop of wisdom on our face can take years.

The smaller deer licks snow from the larger one’s ear.

This is how wisdom is passed: drop of snow, lick of ear.

This too can take years.

Mark Nepo is a poet, philosopher, and program officer at the Fetzer Institute. His recent titles include Facing the Lion, Being the Lion: Finding Inner Courage Where It Lives and Surviving Has Made Me Crazy.

Excerpted from www.spiritualityandpractice.com with special thanks to Mary Ann and Frederic Brussat.

n the spiritual life, imagination has two meanings. First, it is a human faculty—the part of us that traffics in images, symbols, myths, and stories. It is the capacity we all have

for innovative thinking and creative expression. Second, the imagination is an inner reality, a boundless realm not defined by our senses or reason, that we know from our dreams and can enter via certain exercises while awake. The practice of imagination encourages us to use this faculty and enables us to explore the realm.

Begin by learning the language of imagination. Keep track of the images that come to you spontaneously in association with your feelings and thoughts. Draw pictures of what you encounter in your dreams. Contemplate art and see yourself as part of the picture. Read myths and tell stories. Remember, through the ages spiritual pilgrims have found that it is pos-sible to step into the inner realm of imagination. There you can find fuel for your journey and gifts of wisdom.

“How to be an artist: Stay loose. Learn to watch snails. Plant impossible gardens. Make little signs that say ‘yes’ and post them all over your house. Make friends with uncertainty.” —Henry Miller quoted in Sacred Journeys in a Modern World by Roger Housden

Permission granted: be an artist. Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat have been covering contemporary culture and spirituality for four decades. They are the authors of Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life and Spiritual Rx: Prescriptions for a Meaningful Life. They live in a loft in New York City with their cats.

An exploration of the spiritual gifts with which we come into this realm and the spiritual vows we create for ourselves to deepen into the divine within and around us. A women’s circle gathered through ritual, meditation, play, and rest. Friday evening through Sunday, $300; includes your two- night stay at GilChrist. Contact Pam Poley, ACSW, at 269-388-2222 or prp3pine@hotmail.com.

Beginning fall 2009, look for us online at www.fetzer.org, where you can find our latest news and upcoming events, reflections, photos, poetry, and prose.

For writers, one of the deepest calls is that of solitude. This retreat explores how contemplation, nature, and ceremony are doorways into the sacred space from which all good writing comes. We will alternate between group practices that activate creativity and solitary practices that support rest, reflection, and expression. This is not a performance workshop, and writers will not be asked to share their work aloud. For more information, contact Martha Travers, PhD, at mwtravers@yahoo.com and see her Web page www.natureandhealing.org.

The tools of contemplative practice will be used to gain insight into and experience with the teachings of A Course in Miracles. The program will incorporate meditations, readings, discussions, and sharing. Contact Paul Asmus at 269-372-1101 or paasmus@net-link.net.

Meditations, poetry, and individual instruction support a depth of silence as we approach the Winter Solstice. We will contemplate how we receive and are open to love through the subtle experience of the body and the heart. Choose a shorter or longer experience. Inquire for more details. Registra-tion deadline October 3, $50 deposit. Chris Smith, facilitator, 269-365-0310, or onemysteryoneheart@gmail.com.